


The helmet fits

by paperbackReject



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: Psychological Horror, mentions of intrusion, snake horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 23:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5226122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperbackReject/pseuds/paperbackReject
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had a name before, hadn’t he?<br/>Couldn’t be.<br/>The voices only called him by one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The helmet fits

**Author's Note:**

> An in- character drabble I don't remember writing.

His body is weak but his words were firm. Sitting with his back more limp than a preying vulture and joints suspended by an invisible hand. A hand that stole his straw words and spun them into gold. The same flecks of gold twinkled with a hollow sheen in Haou’s hazel eyes. The throne was a weighted chain to the brunette, with heavy feet he trudged through stone walls with whispers slathered between each brink and windowpane.

He had a name before, hadn’t he?

Couldn’t be.

The voices only called him by one.

Discarding his helmet, shaggy brown locks fell to frame his features. Now the king was no son of Thor with muscle and strength but instead Orpheus’s weak soul and Hades’ old robes to adore his tired mind. He looked like a child playing dress up if it weren’t for the spot of Macbeth on his gloves, he would just be that- a prince in armor. No sword or gut to fight with just eyes that were too tired and aged for his youth. Pale lips chapped from liquids and care. The voices spoke for him, no need for a tongue of human with the resources of a black cat on its midnight cunning strolls. A silver snake in the grass had slithered into his mouth, past the pearls for teeth. No strength to gag the revolting creature out, it slithered it’s way to nest in his ears and make home in his sockets. A voice familiar and true joined in chorus hymns both the melodic and demonic variety. Echoing like a continuous imputed of code. He pryed himself from this seat like a rag doll with an order. His only friend reassured him of how alone he was. How utterly hallowed his head would be in their absence. He would do anything to keep that reassurance if only just scold him. He would weld the helmet to his skull, he would hold his hands to keep in on, braving the bites of his friends words as poisonous as they were. Maybe his flesh would heal over the metal and they would find comfort in each other. After all he had lived like this for years, right? He had entered forgotten anything, right? His head was filled with too many voices now, some voices too faded and distant to recognize. His helmet was too heavy now.


End file.
